


A Kind of Magic

by sian1359



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28204956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: Bucky has some help adapting from being Hydra's Winter Soldier to becoming the Avenger's Winter Soldier
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36
Collections: Winterhawk Wonderland - 2020 edition!





	A Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bear_shark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bear_shark/gifts).



> There are probably more comic elements in this than movie elements, though I picture and hear the movie versions in my head while I'm writing. 
> 
> I managed two of the three prompts (even if the second is fleeting and subverted), but couldn't pull off the third because I'm no artist able to pull off telling a story in Lucky (or Alpine's) pov.
> 
> Title is taken directly from a Queen song and album of the same name, that has nothing to do with this fic.

**Pizza Ice Cream**

Bucky can't believe that he and Barton are arguing over something as stupid as ice cream. That not only did Barton, out of the fucking blue, track him down just to find out what kind of ice cream Bucky liked, but that for the last five minutes despite mostly being ignored (not that Bucky's been paying any more attention to inventory he's been conducting since he's on his third time through the items stored in this weapons locker in the course of the last two hours and even the first time through it was just busy work), Barton is now trying to convince Bucky that pizza ice cream could be a thing. Bucky just shakes his head and electronically signs off on the numbers, then starts to walk away. Barton barely takes a breath before he follows, now spouting nonsense words like Chunky Monkey, Karamel Sutra that he says that Bucky needs to try, along with something called Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz!, which, given the enormity of the other man's daily coffee consumption, comes as no surprise to be named one of _his_ favorite flavors.

Bucky is tempted to point out that ice cream had been invented long before America got settled by the Europeans. That before the War there had been more ice cream parlors in Brooklyn than there had been bars, and that Howard Johnson's parlor had had twenty-eight flavors – a few of which Bucky hasn't seen in today's markets – but if he is being honest, he appreciates the effort Barton is putting in to try and engage him in conversation, silly though the subject matter is. For all that he is Natalia's partner; Barton wears few masks here in the tower, usually open and welcoming, treating everyone like they're already friends and worthwhile company, even when he's given clipped, single words answers to his questions. Barton ribs right back at Stark, doesn't back down against Steve, and seems to genuinely enjoy hanging out with the Hulk. Given that the Black Widow was Barton's first befriended, brain-washed assassin, Bucky supposes befriending _him_ isn't any sort of big deal to Barton, but more and more, Bucky is finding that it is a big deal to him.

Bucky finds himself leading Barton toward the massive kitchen with its accompanying dining/lounge area that's gets used during the team bonding activities Steve keeps pushing on the rest of them when they're in residence. He's not sure whether all this talk of pizza and ice cream has made him hungry, or if his brain has decided it's just another useful way to kill time, but he sees no reason to talk himself out of contemplating eating. While Bucky prevails upon the amazing variety of local dining options normally, he does know how to cook. He'd reacquainted himself with the task because, with all his years in Hydra's hands, he'd initially had trouble trusting anything coming from other people, but especially food. Soon enough, however, he found himself enjoying not just trying out interestingly sounding recipes, but also in trying some experimentation of his own. Nothing so complicated today, he's thinking, but Bucky expects he can find something palatable to put together for the two of them, and for anyone else who might be hanging around.

Like Banner and Stark, apparently.

"Bruce, great," Barton calls out when they walk in on the other two men puttering around the large holographic display that dominates a side of the lounge. "Just the science guy we need to settle a bet."

That he and Barton had made any sort of bet came as news to Bucky, but before he could raise an objection, Stark did so first.

"What about me?" he groused. "I'm –"

"A hell of an engineer, but this is a science science debate. Like biology based, or maybe it's more chemistry," Barton offers with a disarming shrug and wide smile. "Definitely from the squishy end of the spectrum. Not anything like how the universe works, or something to do with blowing shit up," he adds, sounding apologetic. He gets a dismissive hand wave from Stark in return, while Banner looks somewhat resigned as well as amused.

Much like Bucky expects his own expression reflects.

"I contend that pizza flavored ice cream's time has come, while Bucky disagrees," Barton explains. "Considering how there has been an explosion of alternate flavored potato chips like marinara, dill pickle and cheesesteak that taste pretty damn close to what they're named for, not to mention all the weird new candy flavors like pancake and syrup, or cotton candy flavored Peeps – "

"Of course you've tried those," Banner says while shaking his head in despair.

" – and all of the Japanese flavored Kit Kats like sake and wasabi," Barton keeps going, his grin widening just short of sticking out his tongue at Bruce. "So the flavor science is there, right? Obviously big agro has figured out a way to powder flavor. And as far as ice cream goes, there is already tomato flavored ones as well as bacon flavored. So pepperoni isn't really a stretch. Just like pizza dough isn't all that different from cookie dough to add in chunks to the creaming base. You could even go Hawaiian adding pineapple with ham or bacon bits. All that needs to be figured out would be the spices."

"Pineapple does not belong on pizza," Stark snaps, with the sound of a long ongoing debate. And, then, "No cheese?"

Barton shrugs. "I'd say it's already covered by the ice cream itself, but sure, shaved mozzarella flakes instead of coconut flakes. Now that I've broken it down, I'm surprised no one has done it commercially," he throws out there. "I mean, it sounds like we could make it here, ourselves. Right? Bruce?"

"Sorry, Clint, but even if it does really taste like pizza, I don't think there would be a big market for it, at least not here in the US," Banner offers in all seriousness. "Yes, I think you are right in that it could be done. And, yes, I know that plenty of people like cold pizza as well as a hot slice, but it's not like you see big tubs of tomato ice cream lining the freezers of the grocery stores even without all of your enhancements. Psychologically, I think the ice part of ice cream is just as important as the flavor, and most people crave a scoop to cool off and for something sweet, not savory. So I think this falls under the just because it could be done, doesn't mean it should be done. Sorry if that doesn't settle your bet."

Barton turns to look to Bucky, still grinning like loon. "How do you want to call it, Buck? Expert opinion says I'm right, but that I shouldn't be."

A month ago – hell, a week ago – Bucky would have just let it go. Said yes, he supposes, just to end the conversation, and then retreat somewhere alone so he could get back to brooding in peace while they all wait for Steve to get back being called to testifying before the US Congress. Even a couple of days ago, Bucky would have just chalked this up to Barton being Barton, bored maybe and figuring he can pester the new guy who hasn't heard all his shtick before. Bucky would have thought that even now if they'd just run across each other in the course of their day and this weird discussion had ensue, but Barton had _sought him out_. So maybe this wasn't about ice cream or pizza.

"Remind me again, what are the stakes to our bet?"

**Jingle Balls**

"Have you figured it out, yet?"

Bucky knows this trick. Ask someone a vague, open-ended question in the hopes that the person answering will reveal something personal or incriminating. With the unwary it often works – or at least provides threads that can then be pulled and unraveled amidst further conversation without them even aware of what they have given away. Even knowing the trick, it can serve as training; seeing if you can turn the table on the questioner and get more from them than you give in return. Coming from Natalia, it's all of that, but it's also a game when it comes to him – or at least it used to be. Something left over from their time in the Red Room together, one of the few memories from that time that is associated with fun more than with pain.

What Bucky isn't sure of, in this instance, is if she really has figured out there is something worth fishing for. Yes, he's been more or less staring at Barton (no, Clint, since he is finally allowing himself to consider them friends) for the last ten or fifteen minutes, but he knows he can get away with his staring since Clint is standing next to Steve, and everyone and their brother is still commenting on how Bucky _always_ has Steve's back, even during something as "innocent" as this charity schmooze fest the Avengers are attending on behalf of the Maria Stark Foundation.

Bucky figures that other than Natalia, Wilson gets it, as would Colonel Rhodes were he around. And he is firmly convinced that Clint has tracked every step that Natasha has taken in this cavernous ballroom tonight, along with scoping out everyone who's even thought about approaching her. It's a military thing and a partner's thing and, frankly, Bucky doesn't give a fuck if Stark says it's really based on some sort of separation anxiety disorder. It's not like the lot of them don't have any number of psychological disorders and trauma, some of which they talk to professionals about and some, like most people, they ignore until it comes back to bite them in the ass.

Finally turning to look at her, Bucky decides to respond with, "If you are offering to let me know how long I have to stay before my leaving won't wag any heads, I'd appreciate the heads up." He's not sure that he wants to play cat and mouse with her tonight, though it would certainly be one way to pass the time.

She takes a sip from the glass she's holding before offering him a knowing smile and laughter in her eyes. "You are all so horrible at this. Well, except Tony, of course, not that he genuinely enjoys these things any more than the rest of us. He's just a little more aware and appreciative of their value."

"Valuable to the charities, yeah, but it also is to him, right? And to Stark Industries?" Bucky counters. He has nothing against doing charitable work, or giving money if that's all you can do, but it's the sheer spectacle of events like this that offends him. "I mean, isn't that why most of these people are here? For the good press? And photo ops with the dancing monkeys?"

Natalia hands him her glass so she can slip her arm around his metal one, snuggling in close and no doubt setting tongues wagging. Bucky doesn't mind the intimacy; she and Clint are the only ones who don't seem bothered or fascinated by his prosthetic, and while he hadn't known it was a thing before a therapist mentioned it, he definitely has been touch-starved for many years. He also knows this is either theatre or simply Natalia being in a good mood but nothing more; they've already had the discussion about their past and how they are very different people now. Normally he'd be fine with the press going to town in speculation – better images about him getting cozy with Natasha Romanoff than just those of him fighting as an Avenger and all of the resulting comments of whether he deserves to be allowed to – but if Clint starts to think he's looking to take up with Natalia again –

"Half of the people here donate to try and curry favor, half just so that they don't look bad in the press, and half are trying to show Tony up by offering a bigger donation than he did," she tells him. He'd question her math, but he figures it's like a Venn diagram, with circles overlapping and, yeah, that makes sense.

"What none of them know is that the public check Tony presents tonight is just that, something for the public and the media," she continues. "Privately, he also matches every dollar of every other donation. I do suspect that's this is a more recent turn in his philanthropy, probably only since the Battle of New York, but Tony is definitely the best of them in this room tonight. He doesn't give a damn about the press."

That certainly isn't nothing, and given what Stark also donates regularly to worldwide relief efforts and, hell, just in financing the Avengers, he's definitely not the selfish prick that Hydra had deemed to be little threat to their plans for world domination. Bucky still has some trouble wrapping his head around having enough money to be able to give multi-million dollar checks to charities on a regular basis, but better such corporate profits in Stark's hands than in someone like Justin Hammer or the Roxxon heirs.

"Great, now I feel selfish and petty for resenting having to be on display for a couple of hours as the redeemed Avenger," he grouses.

She lays her head against his shoulder. "Don't. You're no worse than the rest of us. Like you said, we're here as the enticement to get them to open up their bank accounts and little more. The trick to surviving these things is to make a game of it. Clint and I usually turn them into missions. We come up with a goal, find a couple of suitable marks, and see which of us achieves the best outcome. Or we have a contest, like tonight. Is he going to get Steve to laugh out loud before I get you to?"

She wins, of course. Bucky can't help but laugh at that, because it's absurd and kind of perfect, and the thought that he mattered enough to be a stake in one of their games goes a long way in making him feel glad that he didn't take the out he was given and back out of coming tonight.

Clint's gaze immediately turns their direction, but instead of disappointment or frustration, his expression is one of pure pleasure, like he's happy that he lost, and that does something even more to Bucky's feelings. Still looking toward the two of them, Clint then says something that doesn't just pull a laugh out of Steve, but a damn guffaw that has heads turning around and Steve turning red.

"What? Did he let … why would he let you – "

"Happiness, friendships, even events like this become easier when you let go of believing that you only deserve pain and loneliness, James," Natalia interrupts his sputtering. "You are allowed to enjoy yourself and have fun. To sulk and brood, too, but pessimism doesn't have to be your default. You want to continue to atone for past sins, fine, but the only person you _owe_ something to is yourself. Not us, not any of these people or any others. You've paid your time in a living Hell, whether they believe or care."

"Easy to say – "

"Doesn't make it untrue," she interrupts him again, with a cluck of chiding. "Since when have _you_ turned away from doing something because it was hard? All the important things take work. Deserve our attention, dedication, and commitment."

"A Red Room slogan, Natalia, really?" he chuffs, torn because he'd rather shut down this conversation, but doesn't want to shut _her_ down.

He feels her shrug against his arm, still snug against his side like she's as happy for closeness between them as he is.

"Also not untrue, despite their using it as dogma," she points out. "You just have to decide what the important things really are and stop feeling guilty for finally being able to make your own decisions. It doesn't mean everything will always work out, that you won't screw up, and some things might even blow up in your face, but that's what life is for everyone. No reason not to find some happiness and pleasure along the way."

Bucky's heard this all before, from Steve, from several therapists, but Natalia is speaking from her own, similar experiences, not just spouting the platitudes, well-meaning though the others all have been. The fact that she did escape from the Red Room, that she took being turned into an agent of chaos and destruction and reinvented herself into a guardian and protector as well as seeming to have found herself some peace along the way, gives him hope for himself.

"Not that I don't appreciate what you're saying, but is that really what you came over here to talk to me about?" he still has to ask, even at the risk a alienating her. "Weren't you here to make me laugh?"

She gives his arm a squeeze. "Still have to lay more groundwork if it's going to be more than a one time, catch you off guard thing. It's our long-term project. And, maybe, I'm tired of seeing you give up on going after something you want, like that is something you don't deserve."

She's looking up at him now like she knows not just his mind, but his heart. He's ready to deny it out of sheer reflex, not ready to let himself be vulnerable and get hurt because he has begun to discover and explore having feelings. Because he does, indeed, _want_ things. But he's tired of giving up too. Of being his own worst enemy and sabotaging things before he even tries for them.

Too, if they really are both talking about the same thing – about Clint – then her encouragement has to mean that she doesn't think he'll be rebuffed; Natalia might be ruthless, but she is never purposely cruel.

And if she's meaning something else entirely, well then he supposes he should get credit for making the Black Widow laugh.

"I want to ask Clint out on a date, but I'm thinking it might be better to do something not quite so charged with expectations beforehand. Some kind of trial thing with one or two others along to, well, run interference if it becomes necessary."

Natalia doesn't laugh. Or look surprised. She does look pleased, which in turn pleases Bucky.

"I'm impressed, James. I figured we'd stay dancing around your feelings for Clint for at least a couple more minutes," she teases before appearing to give his idea real consideration. "I assume an Avengers only gathering is still more than you're looking for? Even something as safe as movie night?"

"If I suddenly sit next to Clint at the next movie showing, Stark is going to say something, given how I've sat alone the last two times I showed up. And Steve will end up making it a big deal. Maybe not in public, but he'll go on about how proud his is that I've put myself out there or something, instead of ribbing me like he used to, and then we'll both end up thinking more about the past than the future we're each trying to make for ourselves. I love the guy, but we're both dealing with a lot of issues tied up in each other and our pasts."

Natalia nods. "How does this sound? Most of Clint's charities and causes involve kids. He's likes to play Santa this time of year, taking presents and Foundation checks out to local group homes and pediatric wards, and has the first two scheduled for the day after tomorrow, starting in Bed Stuy – Bedford–Stuyvesant. I was planning on tagging along, at least for the first day, and I know he wouldn't object to you coming with us. We bring Lucky, who is always a bigger hit than we are, as you might imagine. We don't go as Avengers, so no uniforms or suits, and the only pressure comes in trying to keep the kids engaged, though we can always cheat and hand out presents early if our entertainment is bombing. I usually do a little ballet, and help the kids who are well enough to try their own steps, while Clint has a number of sleight of hand and other tricks he learned in the circus of his youth to offer. Sometimes I can talk him into taking his guitar and we do carol sing-alongs as well."

"I don't really dance, or sing – "

"I bet you can do great voices reading _A Visit from St. Nicholas,_ or some other story or poem."

Bucky takes in a deep breath and nods. Maybe not voices, but he used to read aloud all the time when they were kids and Stevie was confined to his bed; this wouldn't really be any different. "You're sure I won't be messing up something that's just for the two of you?"

"I promise. You can get past your awkwardness in being alone with Clint, while I play Auntie Chaperone."

*****

"Sorry, boys, but I'm going to beg off of the trip to the dog park," Natalia – Nat says suddenly as they exit the restaurant and step to the side so that Clint can deal with Lucky. "I've got a cab coming to pick me up and take me down to Little Odessa – Brighton Beach," she directs Bucky's direction, along with a not so subtle wink.

"Do you need back-up?" Clint asks, looking up from where he's crouched down while he's attaching Lucky's leash to the harness the dog wears under a service vest.

She shakes her head. "Not that kind of visit, _radost moya_. There are just a couple of shops I want to browse through and see if I can find a couple of the last gifts I need. You two go ahead and give Lucky his treat for being such a good boy this morning," she says, reaching down to give the dog a good scratch around its ears. "We can meet up again in a few hours for an early dinner. Say four o'clock at Varenichnaya?"

Three hours from now, Bucky notes, which seems a little soon given how they've just finished lunch, but on the other hand, if he and Clint are going to supervise Lucky playing in the snow at a local park for a while, they're probably going to need to do some running around themselves to stay warm and work up an appetite.

"Ooh, that's that hole-in-the wall, Russian ravioli place, right?"

Nat cuffs Clint on the back of his head. "You speak Russian like a native, as does Bucky. He knows what _vareniki_ are. They also do _pelmini_ , of course," she then turns her head and assures Bucky. "Along with soups, kabobs, and other things Russian grandmothers like to make and eat. I usually also pick up a few bags of frozen _vareniki_ and _pelmini_ to take home for later when we are done, but I can do that regardless of whether we eat there, if you'd prefer some other kind of meal."

" _Vareniki_ sounds fine with me," Bucky tells them. He's revisited a lot of his old favorite foods, even if he doesn't really have that many memories of what they should taste like, and is enjoying sampling the remarkable variety of offerings from all over the world he can find locally, since so many of his years were spent with food simply being a way to keep his body going, he can eat anything. His memories of the stuffed dumplings that were a staple for the Red Room are vague but mostly positive and if they're something that both Nat and Clint enjoy, he can't imagine that he won't.

"Good. Then I'm off. Have fun in the snow."

"Do we need to get a cab ourselves?" Bucky asks Clint after they see Nat into hers. They'd had a Foundation volunteer drive them out to Maimonides and its pediatric trauma center bright and early this morning, since they'd had boxes of presents as well as themselves to bring. The volunteer had gone on ahead to deliver the rest of presents to a group home in Bed-Stuy, leaving them to use the subway once they were done at the hospital to get themselves to their next destination. He'd been surprised that no one in authority along the way had objected to Lucky's presence, until Clint had explained about the vest, and the training he and the dog had undergone just so he could bring Lucky along for the kids to get to play with.

Clint shakes his head. "The park's only a few blocks from here – five I think, or maybe six. I just figured we could walk it?" He makes it a question.

Bucky nods and tugs on his gloves. While the vibranium Shuri used for his prosthetic stays at body temperature even in a New York winter, he doesn't want to draw attention to it by wearing a glove on one and not the other. He does jigger the interface, though, that alters the arm's appearance between its standard black and gold that he prefers to something that looks more flesh-like without trying to hide that its artificial – a thoughtful extra that Shuri had added to her design unasked for, for those instances when he needed to "not be so recognizable as the big, bad Winter Soldier". Bucky hadn't thought he'd be using it outside of stealth missions and going undercover, but it had turned out to not only be useful in not giving away their identities to the kids, it had encouraged a couple of the kids who'd had their own amputations feel a little more comfortable and welcome during the visit.

"Can I ask about it?" he starts, as they get underway. "Why you don't go in as Avengers. You've got to know that the kids would be thrilled."

The look Clint sends him as they cross the street is a mixture of sadness, frustration, and something Bucky isn't comfortable naming.

"I would, if it was just kids. And, yeah, sometimes we do make those kind of visits. The kids love seeing Captain America. Like today, though? It's not like the Hospital didn't know who we really were. They vet everyone who doesn't have a personal connection to a patient who shows up wanting to spend time in the wards. For the most part, though, when it's Clint Barton that wants to try and entertain the kids, I'm just another volunteer there to help out. Even those who do know who else Clint Barton is, they respect my offer, and just appreciate the help. But when Hawkeye or any Avenger shows up, it has to become news. Maybe not front page of even the city section when it's just me or Scott, but there will be a photo somewhere, because someone in hospital administration will want to capitalize on the attention. Bad as that can be, even worse is that all too often, some local politician will also show up along with their own news crew. Those visits become all about the optics instead of about the kids."

Bucky hadn't put it together like that from his own few experiences, but now that Clint has pointed it out, that's exactly what ends up happening, and why he stays in the background if not fully in the shadows during any Avengers' press conferences. He prefers his politicians who just do their jobs and don't crave the spotlight – or at least aren't there to share the credit for something when all they did is show up to get photographed. (He'll grant that it's hard to get reelected if no one knows the legitimate things that a politician accomplishes, but then he doesn't understand why anyone would want to be elected in the first place, much less twice.)

"Yeah, I prefer this kind of thing too," he admits. "I'm more than happy to leave the spotlight to Stark and Stevie."

Clint laughs. "Definitely, but don't forget Thor. He's great with the press and politicians alike, and they love him in turn. Of course, he's also a huge troll who likes to play up his alien-slash-god from another realm when it suits instead of just when he runs into things that we do that really confound him."

"You seemed to be a natural performing in front of the kids and staff today. Nat said that you learned the magic tricks and juggling in the circus?" As the Winter Soldier, Bucky had been given details on all of the costumed heroes who'd taken up with Captain America. Clint's background like Natalia's had been more built more from known acquaintances and pilfered SHIELD reports, and while the names of several members of the Circus of Crime had been associated with Clint's, neither Bucky nor Hydra had known there might have once been an actual circus as a part of it.

"The tricks and the traditional juggling, yeah," Clint says as he takes them around a street corner and not only Bucky, but Lucky can now see a vast field of white before them. There are a few trod paths through the snow, as well as two and four legged trails, several snowmen in various stages of melt, a section of snow angels of multiple sizes, and what looks to be the remains of an epic snow ball fight between opposing, half broken battlements. Surprisingly, there is also plenty of pristine snow toward the back of the park for Lucky to launch himself through, and the dog is practically quivering to get to it.

"Yeah, okay, boy," Clint addresses the dog. "Just give me a few." He deftly removes the leash first, and while Bucky half expects Lucky to bolt then, the dog stays patient if vibrating, not only as the vest and the harness get removed but waiting until Clint pulls one of his juggling balls from his pocket to get tossed while he commands Lucky to "fetch". The dog is then off like a rocket, unerringly following the trajectory of the fading jingles and blur of yellow despite only having one eye.

"Is that safe?" Bucky asks before he can stop himself. Of course Clint isn't going to do anything to endanger his dog.

Clint just gives him a smile as he puts away Lucky's things in the backpack he's brought along. "If you're talking about all the snow and potential obstacles it could be covering up, I live just a few blocks west from here and this is our park. Lucky knows the whole place, clear or covered. I think dog memories, as well as how they spatially place themselves in the world, is done more by smell than sight, so the snow isn't much of a factor. At least not for Lucky."

Not at all surprising, Clint pulls a thermos out of the backpack, no doubt filled with coffee. He pours and offers Bucky the first drink.

"As far as using one of the jingle balls for fetch, Stark helped me make them, because I wanted to use bells inside them so they'd jingle instead of beads to make them sing. There's a silicone layer around the metal ball, so even if Lucky's teeth penetrate he's not going to free the bells and choke, and all I have to do it put on a new surface. They'll get all slobbery, but I'll check them over and then wash and disinfect them before putting them away for the next time if they don't need to be fixed." 

Bucky hands the cup over after taking a drink and nodding his thanks. It's cold enough that he appreciates the warmth. He's not sure how he missed Clint getting the thermos filled, most likely at the home but it could have been at the restaurant, since Clint and Nat had both seemed to be regulars given how one of the waitresses had come over to say hello even though they hadn't been seated in her section. It gets handed back when Lucky comes bounding back with the ball so that Clint can throw it again.

"Now, as far as the circus, that was home for me and my brother when we were kids for a while, and even kids had to contribute," he offers while leading them over to a couple of the benches and showing that he was prepared for this as well by taking out a blanket from the backpack and putting down for them to sit on after they brush off the several inches of snow. "I took to performing, shameless even then, working the lines of the midway with stuff like juggling before we figured out I could shoot a bow. A lot of what I learned there transferred and got repurposed into spycraft skills later on; I keep up with the fun stuff to remind myself that not everything I can do well has to be used against people."

Clint has that darker look to his expression again, the one that Bucky is coming to believe means that Clint has his own doubts about his value. And while it's nice to know that Bucky isn't the only one who has a past he'd like to move beyond, he doesn't like the idea of Clint feeling like he doesn't measure up to Steve, Stark, or any other God damn Avenger. Before he can say something, though, Clint is talking again, apologizing, but at least about something tangible and of no worry.

"Sorry about the cold, wet seat. But if we sit down, Lucky knows that fetch is over for now and he can just romp and nose around. Once we stand up again, he'll bring the ball back and wait to see if we're playing again or moving on to something or somewhere else. You want to keep playing, go for it; you might be the first person who wouldn't get tired of it before Lucky does."

"No, I'm good here," Bucky said quickly, not that he isn't having a good time watching and sharing Clint's dog with him. There'd never been pets around when he and Steve had been kids. With little enough money to buy food for the family, it wouldn't have been fair to bring a pet into that situation too, and then later, with Steve's asthma and allergies, it hadn't even been a wish. And while there had been dogs around the camps when he'd been stationed with the 107th, the Howlies really hadn't had much down time to spend playing fetch.

Bucky's thinking he'd like to get a pet of his own, but obviously looking after a dog requires a lot of effort and attention, something he knows that Clint can only manage because he has several other people who will look after Lucky when he's on a mission or an Avenger call out. Nat has a cat that she seems to be able to make work that Bucky thinks he could emulate, plus the more independent nature of cats in general would seem a likelier fit, but he's not yet made up his mind. In the meantime, however, he suspects that Clint will let him visit Lucky whenever he needs some unconditional love and uncomplicated pleasure.

"So what's what you did with the, what did you call them, singing balls?" he asks after another exchange of the coffee cup between them.

"I think of them as if a Chinese baoding ball and Tibetan singing bowl had offspring. And what I was doing with them is called contact juggling. It always gets that kind of reaction because of how the movement tricks the eye of the watcher into thinking it's something a lot more complicated than just a matter of fingering."

"It was mesmerizing." Clint had been mesmerizing. So fluid with the balls that they appeared to be floating without support over his palms and the back of his hands, but also in so how at peace he seemed to be performing with them. Bucky knows that baoding balls are used not just for hand and finger therapy, but in meditation, so it isn't a stretch to think that using them in juggling – or that just juggling itself – might also be a form of meditation or stress release for some people.

Clint turns his attention from Lucky at Bucky's words, his expression turning shy. "I can teach you how to do it, if you'd like."

"I don't think," Bucky begins, raising his left arm, but Clint not only shakes his head, he waves away his objection vigorously enough that he would have splashed coffee over the both of them were there any coffee left in the plastic cup.

"If you're worried about trying it with crystal balls, we can use steel ones. I've seen you do fine manipulation with those fingers, seen you control the amount of pressure and strength you put on things. You'd be fine, and most people are a little more clumsy with their offhand anyway. If you're not interested, that's okay, but don't sell yourself short without at least trying. I mean, sure, you might suck at it. Even super soldiers have to have some flaws, and like most things, it will take time to master, and practice to stay good at it. For those of us who have to worry about getting old, or recovery and flexibility, it's definitely a useful exercise, but Tasha never took to it, saying it chipped her nails."

"Maybe I'll have you show me the tricks of traditional juggling, but I think I'd like to hold onto the wonder of the rest of it," Bucky decides. "Just watch you and keep a little of the Christmas magic alive."

That declaration gets Clint's cheeks turning pink. He turns his attention back on Lucky for a moment, before changing his mind and turning back toward Bucky.

"Hey, I may be off base here," he starts with a hitch to his breath and a hopeful look on his face. "But I get the feeling that we might be having a moment here. That we might have a little Christmas magic going on between us. Am I – "

"Why did you think I gave a damn about pizza-flavored ice cream?" Bucky interrupts but then wants to kick himself for jumping the gun and maybe stepping on their moment.

Clint just smiles, though, his expression turning relaxed and happy, like Bucky -- like neither of them had screwed this up.

"Even I don't give a damn about pizza-flavored ice cream, Buck. That was just the only stupid thing I could come up with to distract you from doing more pointless busy work while you worried about Steve."

"How – why did you even notice?" Sure, that day was the first time that Bucky began to make note of Clint as something more than just one of Steve's friends, began to think that maybe Clint was thinking of him as something more than just Steve's lost friend, but still –

"You weren't the only one stressing about what Congress might want, and if I was fretting on Steve's behalf, I could only imagine what you, his best friend beyond forever would be feeling. So I asked JARVIS where you were hiding out. Once he said you'd been doing the same inventory for a couple of hours, I knew I had to intervene. After that, well, once someone doesn't chase me away, I have a tendency to think I'm welcome to butt into whatever they're doing. And I got you to laugh, which I wanted to hear again. That kinda became a thing for Tasha and me. Seeing if we could make you laugh or at least happy for a little while."

"Right, your bet. Your project – "

"Not like you're thinking," Clint's the one to interrupt this time, still smiling that kind, hopeful smile. "We – I'm not trying to fix you. I certainly don't see you as something that is broken." He stops for a moment and closes his eyes. Bucky doesn't interrupt, because it's obvious that Clint is thinking about how to put things, and Bucky very much wants to hear what Clint has to say, without being prompted or even inadvertently altering his words by trying to interject his own thoughts and expectations here.

Finally Clint sighs and opens his eyes back up, fearlessly meeting Bucky's gaze.

"The best I can describe it is you're like _kintsugi_ ," he offers. "The Japanese art of precious scars. It's when something that is shattered is pieced back together with a precious metal to create something unique and even more beautiful than the original object. I'm sure the James Buchanan Barnes that Steve and the Howlies knew back in his day was a fine man. Someone I would have enjoyed getting to know. Just as I value and am so grateful that Tasha's Yasha was there for her, helping her retain a piece of her soul that even the Red Room couldn't strip away. But the Bucky Barnes that I've had the chance to meet, the one who is Steve's Bucky and Tasha's Yasha, the one who is also Hydra's Winter Soldier, is the one I'm falling for. The one I hope might be willing to see if I could be part of _his_ future."

"Yeah, okay, That's … that's a hell of a lot better than what I was trying to come up with to ask you out. By which I mean, yes, I would like to give things a try," Bucky stammers out. He can't stop the smile that overtakes his face, which Clint returns, the two of them just sitting there staring at each other, no doubt looking twitterpated until, "Can I kiss you?"

Clint nods and leans forward. Bucky leans too, closing his eyes in anticipation, which is, of course, when Lucky decides that he's had enough of the snow and comes bounding back to shove a wet nose and a slobbery ball into Clint's lap. Clint yelps, which sets Lucky to barking, and after of moment of shock and outrage, Bucky can only laugh and laugh.

– finis –


End file.
